Let Me Be Your Shelter
by A-very-supernatural-fan
Summary: Sam gets into trouble while waiting for his big brother outside a bar. Featuring some Hurt!Sick!Sam and Protective!Bigbrother!Dean. Dean is 17, Sam is 13.
1. Chapter 1

**LET ME BE YOUR SHELTER**

 **Summary:** _Sam gets into trouble while waiting for his big brother outside a bar. Featuring some Hurt!Sick!Sam and Protective!Bigbrother!Dean._ _ **Dean is 17, Sam is 13.**_

 **Author's note:** Just a little idea that popped into my head. This is gonna be a two-parter. Here's to surviving the hellatus!

-Elisa.

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" _There are 2 kinds of fighters: those who fight because they hate, and those who fight because they love_."

\- Criss Jami

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Sam pulled the hood of his sweatshirt tighter around his head, and shuddered in the chilly autumn air. He peeked out from beneath his messy bangs and, through the drizzling rain, stared at the battered wooden door in front of him. The door was lit up by a blinking neon sign saying 'BAR' – although the 'R' in the sign had stopped being illuminated a long time ago. It was a shabby place to say the least and, under normal circumstances, Sam would have stayed as far away from that place as possible. However, Dean was in there somewhere, and that gave Sam all the reason in the world to be near the place.

Sam shouldn't have been standing in the rain, unprotected and waiting for Dean though. His big brother had _specifically_ told Sam to wait in the Impala while he went inside the bar to talk to an associate of Dad's. Dean had been a bit vague about the details - having told Sam to get some rest instead of bothering with Dean's errand. What Sam _did_ know was that Dad had called Dean earlier that day and told him to meet with this man to pick up something for the hunt he was working on. The brothers were supposed to drive straight to Sheridan, Wyoming after this to reunite with their dad – having only stayed behind in a motel room in a small town in Idaho because Sam was nursing a nasty cold. The youngest Winchester had picked it up during a ghost hunt where an angry spirit had dragged him through a muddy field. Dean had put rock salt through it and Dad had salted and burned its remains but, by then, Sam had already been covered head to toe in cold mud. The consequences had been inevitable, and Sam was soon laid up in bed.

John Winchester had not been a happy camper with the prospect of having to start the next hunt alone, but Dean had insisted that Sam's health came first (which Sam was immensely grateful for). Besides, their dad had agreed it was a better solution for his boys to be a bit delayed rather than risking that Sam's cold developed into pneumonia. Although Sam hated feeling like a disappointment in his father's eyes, he'd secretly enjoyed the past few days without their dad around – with him and Dean being able to just be brothers and not having to worry about the next hunt for once. They'd spent most of the days watching rented movies, with Sam wrapped in a blanket and nestled against Dean's side. All good things came to an end though, so when Dean's phone had gone off on the fifth day, in the middle of ' _Pulp Fiction_ ', Sam knew it was time to return to reality.

Sam suddenly sneezed and then groaned miserably. He swept a sleeve-covered hand underneath his running nose, shivered once more from the cold, and buried his hands in the pockets of his sweatshirt. Dean was gonna kill him if he got sicker because of this, but Sam just couldn't stay inside the car any longer. Not when Dean was supposed to simply walk into the bar, pick up the item and return to the car a few minutes later. That's what he'd said he would do, at least. However, Dean had been gone twenty-three minutes (Sam had counted) before Sam got so worried that he had to leave the car and go look for his brother.

Sam got up on his tiptoes and peeked through the grimy windows to try to seek out his big brother – yet, it was impossible to get a good enough look. The bar was dim and smoke-filled but, although Sam thought he saw a glimpse of a leatherjacket resembling Dean's for a second, he couldn't be certain it really _was_ Dean he spotted.

Moving away from the window, Sam once again looked at the entrance of the bar. Worried about his big brother or not, Dean would not be happy if Sam went in there. Contemplating whether or not to do it anyway, Sam startled when the door was suddenly ripped open, and a group of men staggered out onto the street. Sam pressed himself back against the building, buried himself deeper into his hoodie and bent his head slightly until his floppy hair hid his face. He watched the men warily through his bangs as they noisily interacted with each other, being mindful of every detail as a hunter should be.

" _Study your opponents_. _Any detail could be important – and possibly save your life later_ " Dad had said numerous times – the words now resonating in Sam's ears as he looked at the men in front of him.

There were five of them. Men. Somewhere in their late twenties – early thirties. And they were buzzed. Their staggering movements and noisy conversation gave it away – not to mention the beer bottles a couple of them were carrying. Two of the men waved their goodbyes and disappered down the street, while three of them stayed behind.

"Hey!" One of them, the tallest one in the bunch, said and waved the other two closer. "How much do you need?"

"Just a bag." A bulky, bald guy answered.

"Make it two." The third one, a chubby guy with tattoos, chipped in. "How much?"

"300." The tall one revealed. "It's good stuff."

The bald man reached into his back pocket and pulled out some cash. He gave the tall man the money, and Sam saw a couple of small bags with what looked like white powder exchange hands. Drugs. They were selling and buying drugs. Sam got an uneasy feeling in his stomach, knowing that he was witnessing something he should stay the hell away from. He suddenly wished he'd just stayed in the damn car, but he couldn't exactly run back to the car and lock himself inside it now. Not as long as the men were still there.

Sam closed his eyes for a second and willed himself to stay still and remain calm.

 _Try to stay invisible._

 _Don't draw attention to yourself._

 _If they don't know you're there, they'll leave you alone._

It all worked very well. None of the men seemed to have noticed him and, to Sam's big relief, they were soon moving away. However, the three men had barely taken more than a few steps away from the bar, before a sneeze snuck up on the thirteen-year-old and broke free before he had a chance to stop it. Almost immediately, the men turned around and looked straight at Sam.

"The hell?" One of them exclaimed as he caught sight of Sam.

"You spying on us, kid?" The bald man growled and Sam shook his head, pressing further back against the wall.

Sam desperately searched for a way to escape these men but found himself surrounded by them in a second.

"Huh?" The third man, the tattooed one, spit out and tore the hood away from Sam's head. "What did you say?"

"N-no." Sam stuttered out, wide eyes blinking up at the drunk man in front of him. "I-I didn't see anything."

"He's just a scrawny little boy." The tall man huffed. "He's not gonna tell anyone. Isn't that right, kid?"

The last part was more a threat than a question, and Sam swallowed hard before nodding his head.

"Is that so?" The tattoed man, who still had a tight grip of the hood of Sam's sweatshirt, asked and narrowed his eyes at Sam. "Maybe we should beat him a little around, make sure he stays silent."

The bald guy lit up a cigarette and blew smoke into Sam's face. Sam started coughing, eyes watering, and the bald man smiled grimly at him.

The youngest Winchester knew how to fight. What he hadn't learned from his dad, he'd been taught by Dean, and Sam often sparred with his big brother. That had come in handy when defending himself and others from bullies during the years, but this was a different matter. Sure, if push came to shove, Sam would be able to throw in a few good punches – but there were still three of them and one of him. And they were all older and a lot bigger as well.

"He looks thirsty." The tattooed guy said, lifted his bottle of beer over Sam's head and started pouring the liquid down Sam's hair and face.

The youngest Winchester sputtered and spit as some of the beer made it into his mouth, and he gagged against the foul taste. The three men laughed and two of them high-fived. Sam hoped they'd had enough of this game by now and would leave him alone, but his heart sank as a second beer made its appearance. This time they held his head back so that as much of the liquid as possible could make it into his mouth and nose. Sam coughed and sputtered, had a really hard time breathing, and he struggled against the hold the men had of him. Kicking his legs desperately, Sam managed to kick one of them on the shin, and swung a right hook that connected with someone's jaw. The men he'd hit cried out and Sam found himself momentarily released from their hold. He tried to make a run for it but someone got a hold of the back of his sweatshirt and pulled him back.

"You little shit!" The bald guy shouted, and Sam cried out in pain as the guy burned Sam's wrist with his cigarette.

The tallest one of the men tried to capture Sam against his chest, but Sam elbowed him in the ribs and punched the bald guy right on his nose, before attempting to make a run for it again. He'd only taken one step though before a well-placed kick knocked him off his feet and Sam face-planted – face smacking mercilessly against the hard ground. Pain shot through a couple of Sam's fingers from the way he'd twisted them during his descend, and his face throbbed from where it had collided with the ground. Someone grabbed a hold of him and roughly turned him onto his back, and Sam saw the tattooed guy looming above him with a raised beer bottle in his hand – ready to strike.

"Hey! You get away from him, you son of a bitch!" An angry voice suddenly roared.

Before the tattooed man could even as much as move a muscle, he was knocked to the ground by one piece of furious Dean Winchester. Sam heard the sound of punches being thrown and slowly sat up to see if Dean needed help - while at the same time trying to stop the flow of blood from his bleeding nose.

Dean didn't need help. Not at all. By the time Sam sat up, the tattooed guy was a bloody mess on the ground, the tall guy was sent flying into the side of the nearest car and, although the bald man tried to keep Dean in a chokehold, Sam watched as his big brother broke the hold, threw the bald guy up against the wall and started punching his face.

"Dean!" Sam called as he struggled to get back on his feet. "Stop!"

Dean, however, didn't seem to have heard Sam at all as he continued to punch the man - which scared the hell out of Sam. He had never seen his big brother this furious before.

"Dean, please!" Sam begged and grabbed his brother's arm before Dean could throw another punch. "Stop. Please stop. You're gonna kill him."

Dean turned his head and looked down at Sam. He was breathing hard and his face was still contorted in anger but, by the look of his little brother, his features softened and he slowly lowered the arm Sam was clinging to.

"Sammy." Dean panted out, immediately released the man he'd been beating the ever-living shit out of, and pulled Sam into his arms. "Jesus, kiddo. You alright?"

Sam wrapped his arms around Dean's midsection and tried to hold back tears. He felt far from okay but knew that everything would be alright now that Dean was there. His big brother didn't wait for Sam to answer his question though. He just wrapped Sam up in his arms and lifted him off his feet – completely ignoring the three men on the ground (who were more or less still breathing) and carried Sam to the car.

Carefully lowering Sam into the passenger seat of the Impala, Dean closed the door and quickly went around the car before sliding behind the wheel.

"Here." Dean said, gently pushed Sam's head back and placed a bandana against Sam's bloodied nose. "Keep pressure on that."

Sam carefully nodded his head and used his right hand to pinch his nose through the bandana – the fingers of his left hand still aching as they rested in his lap. Dean turned the keys in the ignition, bringing the car to life, and the brothers were soon back on the road. Luckily right before the cops showed up outside the bar they'd just left behind.

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 **TBC…  
**


	2. Chapter 2

**LET ME BE YOUR SHELTER**

 **Author's note:** I couldn't make you guys wait too long for the continuation, so here's the second and last chapter of this story. Thanks to everyone who's given it some attention. I love reading your reviews ^_^ Hopefully, I'll get more stories written during the summer.

\- Elisa

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Their orders had been simple enough: pick up the item for Dad at the bar - then drive straight to Sheridan, Wyoming to catch up with their father and help out on the next hunt. That's why Sam was more than a little surprised when Dean didn't steer the car onto the highway as he was supposed to, but instead pulled up in front of a motel just outside of town.

"Stay here. I'll be right back." Dean said and gave Sam's shoulder a mild squeeze before departing the car.

Sam, still pressing the bandana against his bleeding nose, nodded his answer, and then followed his brother from out of the corner of his eyes as Dean went inside the reception. The short drive from the bar to the motel had been silent – only interrupted by the sporadic cursing from Dean and the sound of his white-knuckled grip making the leather of the wheel squeak in protest. Dean was mad. No doubts about it. And Sam couldn't blame him. After all, he _had_ left the car even though Dean had told him to stay inside it until he got back. Not only had he gone against his brother's instructions, Sam had also gotten himself into trouble in the process.

Sam pinched his aching nose a little tighter. As his eyes watered it wasn't from the pain alone, but also because the thought of Dean being angry with him hurt the thirteen-year-old more than anything else. Sam could deal with injuries and feeling like a failure in his father's eyes at times, but disappointing his big brother was a whole different matter. Trying to blink back the sting of tears, Sam completely missed the moment when Dean returned from the reception, and jumped as the car door suddenly opened.

"Okay, so I got us a… Whoa, easy Sammy!" Dean said, and quickly steadied Sam before he could fall out of the car. "It's just me."

Sam saw the concern in his brother's eyes, and felt even worse about himself. How could Dean still care so much about him after all the trouble Sam had caused this night? How could Dean still make Sam feel so loved when he continued to let Dean down time after time?

Sam's bottom lip started quivering. Despite biting his lip to try to hide it, the action didn't go by unnoticed by his big brother.

"Hey hey, none of that. Sam, come on." Dean said before he slid his hands underneath Sam's armpits, and lifted him out of the car and into his arms once more.

Sam wrapped his legs around Dean's hips and snaked one arm around his brother's neck – being mindful to still keep the bandana in place so that his blood wouldn't get all over Dean's shirt. He closed his eyes as he felt Dean rubbing his back on the way to the trunk of the car. It was impressive, really, how Dean managed to juggle one piece of upset little brother in one arm while at the same time picking up and carrying both of their duffel bags in the other one. But that was Dean for you - ever the superhero in Sam's eyes.

Sam knew he was getting too big to be carried around by Dean like this. Had their dad been there, he would have told Sam to walk on his own and scolded Dean for treating Sam like a baby. But Sam needed this right now. He needed to be enveloped in his big brother's warmth and to feel protected after what he'd just been through. Considering how Sam usually spent his days face-to-face with things that go bump in the night, it was kinda ridiculous how much he clung to Dean in this moment. However, Sam did tend to be clingy when he was hurt or sick, and this night counted for both. Deep down, he knew that Dean needed the closeness too – no matter _how_ mad he was at Sam for not doing what he was supposed to do.

Dean unlocked the motel room door, pushed it open with his hip and kicked it closed behind them with his foot. Once inside, Dean headed straight for the bathroom and lowered Sam down to sit on the edge of the tub.

"Arms up." Dean said as he removed the blood-soaked bandana from Sam's nose and dropped it unceremoniously into the tub.

Sam lifted his arms and allowed his brother to pull the damp sweatshirt off him. He winced a little as the action jarred a few of his injuries, but he was grateful Dean at least removed it as gently as possible. The sweatshirt joined the bandana in the tub, and Sam nearly gagged from the mixed smell of blood and beer.

A calloused hand grasped Sam's chin and tilted his head back a little, and Sam squinted up at his brother as Dean examined his face.

"Shit, Sam." Dean mumbled with a shake of his head, angry lines once again appearing on the seventeen-year-old's face.

Dean let go of Sam's chin and moved away, and Sam stared miserably down at his feet. He heard the sound of the faucet turning on and off, and then pinched his nose as he realized crimson was still dripping from it.

"Here." Dean said, nudged Sam's hand away from his nose and replaced it with a wet washcloth.

Dean's other hand slipped behind Sam's neck, and his head was gently tilted back again as Dean tried to stop the flow of blood with the washcloth. From this angle, Sam couldn't look anywhere but at Dean's face. He noticed a blueish-purplish bruise on Dean's cheekbone that hadn't been there earlier in the day. Sam swallowed hard as he realized Dean must have gotten the bruise while defending Sam outside the bar. That was just another note to add to the list of things Sam felt guilty about this night.

Dean removed the washcloth for a moment and looked at Sam's nose with furrowed eyebrows. Sam heard him curse and saw him folding the damp cloth in half before Dean placed it on Sam's nose again.

"It might be broken." Dean said, face strained and tense. "Damn it! Will you clot already, you stupid blood?"

Dean pinched Sam's nose a little harder, which made Sam squirm in discomfort. Dean must have noticed because he almost immediately eased up a little and sent Sam an apologetic look.

"Wanna tell me what happened?" Dean then asked in a softer tone. "Did those assholes punch you?"

Sam shook his head slightly. He tried to avoid Dean's look, but his brother would have none of it. Moving so that Sam couldn't escape his scrutinizing gaze, Dean sent him a pointed look.

"I get outside the bar and see my little brother on the ground, bleeding, while some sons of bitches are seconds away from rearranging his face with a bottle…" Dean said - then paused and inhaled deeply through his nose, nostrils flaring. "And you reek of beer. So tell me what happened – and don't say 'nothing' because I know that's not true."

Sam hesitated for a moment while Dean kept looking expectantly at him, demanding an answer.

"You're mad." Sam muttered, his voice sounding rather nasal because of his pinched nose.

"Damn right, I'm mad!" Dean practically shouted, which made Sam jump.

That only resulted in more pain emerging from Sam's nose since Dean still had a good grip of it, and the younger brother groaned. His queasy stomach (that had started acting up during the car ride) suddenly churned violently, and Sam started making gagging noises. Dean, always one step ahead when it came to Sam, swiftly took action and, a moment later, Sam found himself bent over the toilet.

"Easy, Sammy. Take it easy." Dean comforted as Sam spilled the contents of his stomach into the toilet bowl.

However, once started, Sam got himself so worked up that he had a hard time stopping again. He continued to retch – even when he'd got nothing left inside his stomach but bile – and the bitter taste of it didn't make him feel any less nauseous. A combination of puke and the blood from Sam's nose dripped from his chin and into the toilet.

"Dean." Sam cried and clenched the fabric of his brother's jeans - his face wet with tears. "I'm sorry."

Dean, who'd kept one arm around Sam's chest and a hand on his forehead the entire time Sam was retching, gently pulled him away from the toilet until Sam was slumping against Dean's chest.

"Don't worry about it, kiddo." Dean soothed, wiping Sam's face with a towel – then took care of the bleeding nose once more.

Resting against his brother's chest, Sam's nausea subsided a little. He was still upset though - chest aching with the need to make Dean understand his actions, and to be forgiven for going against Dean's orders.

"I s-shouldn't have left the car. I know I shouldn't." Sam confessed in a voice shaky and hoarse from the heaving. "But you said you'd only be gone a few minutes, and then you d-didn't come back and I was worried. So I went to look for you and then these guys came out of the bar and… and…"

Sam both heard and felt Dean's heavy sigh behind him as he struggled to find the words he needed to get off his chest.

"Sam…" Dean began but Sam had already started talking once more.

"I know you're mad at me, but I didn't mean to get in trouble. I just wanted to find you and make sure you were okay. I'm sorry, Dean. I'm sorry." Sam said – once again struggling against threatening tears.

"Whoa whoa, hang on a minute." Dean then said and maneuvered Sam around until the brothers faced each other. "Is that seriously what you think? That I'm mad at you?"

Sam nodded and tried to dodge his brother's look but Dean, as always, managed to bring Sam's focus back to his face. The incredulous expression, he saw on Dean's face, caught Sam by surprise and confused him. Where was the anger he'd thought he would see there?

"Am I happy that you left the car? No, I'm not, and we'll talk about that later." Dean said. "But mad at you? I don't know how you got that into that geeky brain of yours, but Sammy… I'm not mad at you. I'm mad at those bastards that did this to you!"

Sam took in the genuine look on Dean's face, and something finally loosened inside his chest as Sam nodded in acceptance. He felt immensely relieved now that he knew Dean wasn't angry with him – although he still wasn't sure he deserved it. Dean nodded his head too in a mimic of Sam's, and then removed the towel to check on Sam's nose again.

"Looks like the damn bleeding finally stopped." Dean said, looking relieved.

Getting up from his crouched position on the floor, Dean flushed the toilet and closed the lid of it. He then made Sam sit down on it, left the bathroom and returned a few moments later with the first-aid kit. Sam watched as Dean pulled out a couple of cotton wool balls and some rubbing alcohol, and Sam squirmed a little in nervous anticipation. Dean soaked a wool ball in the alcohol, and Sam braced himself for the stinging he knew would come.

"Sit still." Dean told him as he crouched down in front of Sam.

Sam hissed as Dean started dabbing at the scrapes he'd gotten when he'd face-planted in front of the bar. When he tried to twist away from the stinging pain, Dean held his head in place – however, Dean eased up every now and then to allow Sam a break from the pain before continuing.

"You hurt anywhere else?" Dean wanted to know.

"My fingers." Sam answered and held up his left hand for Dean to see.

"Shit!" Dean gasped when he saw the state of Sam's ring- and middle finger – both colored blue and swollen to twice their normal size.

Dean prodded the fingers a bit but stopped the moment Sam gasped in pain.

"Sorry, sorry." Dean apologized, and Sam saw anger flash across his brother's face. "Oh Sam, these are definitely broken."

"Figured." Sam breathed out – then cradled his hurt hand against his chest the moment Dean let go of it.

His big brother grabbed some gauze and a roll of first-aid tape, and gently pried Sam's hand away from his chest. While Dean began the task of splinting the broken fingers – eyebrows furrowed in concentration - Sam finally told Dean the full story about what had happened outside the bar. His brother didn't interrupt Sam during his story, but he did curse a lot and threatened to drive back to the bar to finish what he'd started.

Sam could tell that Dean was more than a little furious by the time he'd finished talking. Dean had splinted Sam's fingers and engulfed them in a towel-wrapped ice pack without trouble, but his hands had shaken when he'd cleaned and covered the burn-mark on Sam's wrist. He knew Dean well enough to know that his hands had shaken out of anger. This time, however, Sam had known the anger wasn't directed at him but at the men that had hurt him. Sam _almost_ felt sorry for them. Getting on the bad side of Dean Winchester was one thing, but getting on his bad side because you'd hurt his little brother was basically like signing your own death sentence. Those men should consider themselves lucky that Dean hadn't know the full extent of what had happened to Sam back at the bar.

Injuries having been taken care of, Sam had only one major issue left to deal with: his hair still stunk of beer. With his fingers splinted, it was gonna be a difficult task soaping in his hair on his own though. That's why Sam ended up seated on the edge of the bathtub while Dean took care of washing the beer-stench out of Sam's hair.

"Forcing beer on a kid…" Dean muttered heatedly while massaging shampoo into Sam's hair. "I'm gonna track those sons of bitches down and break every single piece of bone in their bodies."

Sam closed his eyes and let his brother rant. He was feeling more than a little drowsy, and the warm water combined with the feeling of Dean's fingers massaging his scalp didn't make him any less tired. By the time Dean was drying off his hair with a towel, Sam could barely keep his head lifted. It kept dropping down to his chest and, had it not been for the hold Dean had of him, Sam would have fallen over a long time ago.

"Come on, Captain Snooze." Dean chuckled and guided Sam out of the bathroom and into bed.

Sam let Dean pull a clean, long-sleeved shirt over his head. He was half-asleep when Dean guided his arms through the sleeves and made him swallow some painkillers, before tucking him in. The last thing Sam was aware of before sleep claimed him, was the feeling of Dean's fingers brushing through his hair.

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The following morning, Sam woke up to the sound of his brother's voice as Dean was on the phone with their dad. Pretending to still be asleep, Sam listened to Dean's side of the conversation, and felt a pang of guilt when he realized they were arguing over him.

"I know we were supposed to head straight to Sheridan… Yes, I know the hunt is important Dad, and we'll be there as soon as possible with the stuff you need." Sam heard Dean say. "But Sam needed first-aid and I couldn't do that on the road."

Sam heard Dean's footsteps come closer, and made sure his breathing was as even as possible so Dean wouldn't realize he was actually awake.

"Yes, I did… A couple of broken fingers, a burn mark, and possibly a broken nose." Dean said. "Yeah, don't worry. I beat the shit out of them."

Sam felt a little relieved. Although seeming to be pissed that he and Dean would be more delayed than they already were, Dad had at least wanted to know how Sam was doing. That might sound like a mundane thing but, although Sam didn't question his father's love, John Winchester wasn't exactly parent of the year. He left most of the touchy-feely stuff to Dean.

"Okay… Yes, sir. We will… Bye." There was a beeping sound as Dean hung up the phone.

"You can open your eyes, Sammy. I know you're awake." He said.

Sam blinked his eyes open to see Dean staring down at him with raised eyebrows and arms crossed in front of his chest.

"How did you know?" Sam asked, voice raspier than normal this morning.

"I know everything." Dean said which earned him a glare from Sam.

"So… How pissed off was he?" Sam wanted to know as Dean sat down on the edge of Sam's bed.

"It wasn't too bad." Dean dismissed and changed the subject. "How are you feeling?"

"Tired. And a little cold." Sam admitted and tried to clear his sore throat. "When are we heading back on the road?"

"After breakfast." Dean answered.

Dean then put his palm on Sam's forehead and frowned down at him.

"I think you have a fever." Dean said with a sigh. "Your cold's probably back with a vengeance."

"Sorry." Sam muttered.

"Not your fault. But we're heading to Wyoming today no matter what – Dad's orders. You can rest up in the car." Dean said.

"Okay, Dean." Sam accepted with a yawn.

Dean patted his shoulder and moved off the bed. As Dean disappeared into the bathroom, Sam suddenly remembered there was something he'd wanted to ask his brother the night before.

"Hey Dean?" He asked.

"Yeah?" Dean responded as he reappeared from the bathroom with the first aid kit in his hand.

"What took you so long last night at the bar? And what was it Dad wanted you to pick up?" Sam asked.

"Well…" Dean started – then hesitated for a moment while scratching the back of his head. "It was… Well, it was some sort of drug."

"What?" Sam said - eyes wide as he definitely didn't expect that answer.

"Dad needs it for the hunt. It's apparently the only way to take out the creature he's hunting." Dean explained. "It's a pretty rare type of drug and Dad found this guy who deals with it. He wanted me to pay the guy and bring the drug with me to Wyoming. But apparently, the guy had another client who wanted a chunk of the drug too, and he'd only brought enough for one person. We decided to gamble for it. Whoever beat the other one in a game of pool, got the drug – which I did. I'm sorry I left you for so long though. I shouldn't have done that."

"It's okay, Dean." Sam said but Dean shook his head.

"No, it's not." Dean disagreed. "It's my fault that you came looking for me, and ended up being attacked by those assholes in the process."

"Dean, you couldn't have known." Sam tried to assure, but his brother didn't seem convinced.

Dean washed a hand down his face and went back to packing the duffels - obviously done talking about the subject for now. Sam decided to let the matter go for this time being but promised himself to bring it up again on their way to Sheridan to hopefully convince his brother that what had happened to Sam wasn't his fault. Sam hated when Dean blamed himself for things that was out of his control – especially when Sam was a part of the equation. To Sam, Dean was the best big brother anyone could wish for, and Sam vowed to himself to do anything in his power to make Dean believe it as well.

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 **THE END**


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